


Blood Slides

by ashtonfook



Category: Dexter (TV), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Dexter - Freeform, Gay, M/M, Serial Killers, Top Harry, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtonfook/pseuds/ashtonfook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson is in his mid 30's, working as a Blood Spatter analyst in the Forensics department of Orlando Metro Homicide. He has a nice home, a decent job, and great people to surround himself with. There's just one thing: he's a serial killer. Ever since he was a young boy, he has had an urge to kill. His foster father, Troy, helped him feed the urge in the healthiest way possible, so now he only kills other monsters like him. He was looking for his next victim, when he stumbles upon Harry Styles. Convicted with 5 charges of 1st-degree murder, he looked like a potential victim. But just as Louis is about to take his life, he develops an attraction for him that he cannot control. Taking in a convicted serial killer while working for a team of detectives out to catch him, how will Louis manage? And, will his attraction for Harry be enough to keep him from adding a drop of his blood to his slide collection?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monsters Like Me

Chapter One

Tonight’s the night. And it’s going to happen again and again. Has to happen. Orlando is a great city. Always crowded with tourists, looking for something, or someone, to do. Not a place for fine dining. Most people fill themselves up with whatever necessary to absorb some of the alcohol they are constantly consuming. Drinking is encouraged quite a lot here. Hell, even the Disney parks sell shot glasses. Since everyone is so into consuming their body weight in Bloody Marys and Mojitos, that keeps most people all corralled up in the same places. All the hot spots in the city, like Downtown Disney or City Walk, usually hold 90% of the population. Which leaves a lot of places deserted, and I’m certainly not complaining.

Nights like these call for empty places, far away from busy streets, popular dining spots, potential witnesses. I tend to go for abandoned warehouses, deserted gift shops, and the occasional bankrupt family restaurant. But that’s not where the journey starts. Before the kill, there’s the chase. And while you may gut the fish in the privacy of your home, you seek it out in the most crowded parts of the ocean, looking for a bite. In fact, I’m headed for one of the most visited amusement parks in the city. Not my usual location on nights like this, but then again, this isn’t a usual victim of mine. This one has been on my kill list for quite some time.

Gregory Davis, 18 years old. Likes to smoke a lot of pot. Tried the white stuff once, couldn’t handle it. At least that’s what he told his dealer. Seems to me like he was just broke. You tend to run low on cash when you’ve been behind bars for the past two and a half years. He popped up on my radar again when he created a dating profile. Who knew that the first thing on his mind when he got out of jail was to look for a soul mate? Kind of hard to do when you have no soul. I would know. His eHarmony page says he enjoys long movies, spicy food, and hard rock bands. He forgot to mention ‘murdering and raping young girls’. I guess he figured that chicks ‘don’t dig that’. 

April 19, 2011. Young Jamie Honnes was found dead in a back alley of a liquor store. She had marks on her wrists and ankles, showing that she was somehow restrained. The cuts around those marks show that there was struggle, and for good reason. She had several stab wounds to the neck and chest. All hitting major arteries. This guy obviously has experience with a knife. Semen and male pubic hairs were found when DNA profiling was done on Jamie. All matching up to Greg. Seems like someone forgot to use protection.

After his trial, I knew I would have to wait for this one. Usually, I would mess up the blood spatter report on purpose, keeping the catch for myself. But I have my rules. He was only 16. I don't kill minors. You have to be at the age of being able to dial an infomercial number in order to make it on my kill list. But the waiting didn’t phase me. It just gave me something to look forward to. While most people marked the days people were born on their calendars, I marked the days that people would ultimately die. And, Gregory Davis, today is your day.

Just like that, there he was. After spending an excruciatingly long amount of time finding a parking space, and being stepped on and shoved into others while trying to get a ticket to enter the park, he simply steps into my sight. Losing horribly at a game of Whack-a-Mole, there stood Greg. And, just as I was hoping, he was alone. 

There isn’t really a way of approaching a victim. It’s all about stalking them out, and then pouncing. Which is exactly what I intend to do. I plan on enjoying myself here. I’ll go on some rides, play some games, maybe even eat some cotton candy if I wish to do so. As long as I don’t lose sight of Greg and am always right behind him, I can let myself have some fun.

After going on Crazy Mouse twice, playing 2 or 3 games of that stupid shoot-water-at-the-target-to-blow-up-the-balloon thing, and failing, little Greg is finally ready to head home. That’s when I get moving. I quickly get ahead of him, making it out of the park 10 minutes before him, giving me enough time to switch into my dark brown henley and slip on my black leather gloves. It’s not a necessary part of the ritual, but it’s part of the ritual nonetheless. 

I go for the syringe this time. I need him out fast before anyone can actually see him collapse. He’s not heavy, making it easy for me to carry him 3 yards to my car. If anyone sees us, they’ll just think the guy had too much to drink. From that point on, everything comes easily.

As he comes closer to his car, I ready the syringe, pressing down on the plunger lightly to test its pressure. And in one, two, three seconds, he’s in front of me and the needle is in his neck. I’ve gotten very good at placing the needle in the most sensitive part of the neck to acquire the fastest black-out possible. I’ve had a lot of practice. I prop Greg’s arm around me and carry him to the back seat of my car. I lie him down on the floor, rather than the actual seat. No need for anyone to spot him passed out in my back seat and realize that I’m driving to a secluded area of town. That seems way too suspicious.

It’s a 15 minute drive to the warehouse. It’s one of my favorite kill spots. Kind of like what you might think of your favorite place to eat or shop. I guess you could say I come here often. Once I have Greg and myself inside, it’s time to set everything up.

Rubber sheets, duct tape, lots and lots of plastic. All part of the ritual. All necessary. Another reason why I like coming to the warehouse is because there is a table right in the middle of the room, large enough to fit a human body, placed directly under a bright light. This used to be a toy distribution place, so I’m sure when this thing was built they didn’t think about how handy the construction could be for a serial killer. The light gives me perfect vision of every cut and slice I make on my victim, making the process all the more intoxicating.

As the ritual goes, I undress my victim and strap him onto the table with plastic wrap. It’s nothing sexual, I swear. Unlike these sick fucks, I don’t do that kinky shit they do before they finish their victims. I just do what I’m there for, and that would be the kill. The plastic wrap always covers their privates. After all, I’m there to take their life, not their dignity.

After having been strapped down for half an hour, Gregory starts to shake out of the influence of the tranquilizer. It’s animal tranquilizer, used on things as big as elephants. Extremely hard to get, and extremely effective. 

“W-what the- where the fuck am I, man?” Gregory mumbles, obviously in shock. They always are.

“You, my friend, are in Tanya’s Toy Distribution Center. Well, a late version of that. It’s been abandoned for about 20 years. No one comes around here anymore. That means it’s just you and me.”

“Who the fuck are you, bro? Why am I here? Did my dealer tell you to do this? Cus I paid him back all the money, man. Whatever he told you, he-“

“Oh, would you shut up. Your dealer didn’t send me. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

“What are you doing, man? Just let me out of here, man, come on! You want money? Look, I have money. And drugs. You want pot? I got a stash back at my place, man. We can go there right now and I’l-“

“Why does everyone always assume that I want money? Does it look like I want money?”

He stays silent. No one really knows how to answer these type of questions, especially when the person asking them has control over whether you live or not. It’s always not.

“Look, you see these girls?” I say as I point to the pictures of three girls on the wall. Having my victims face their victims, another part of the ritual. 

“Do they ring a bell?”

He shakes his head. Not in denial, just in fear. That’s okay, I’m used to the fear.

“Anabelle Jackson, 16. Lauren Lopez, 17. And, the one that put you behind bars,” I say as I point to the picture on the far right, “Jamie Honnes, 14.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. I’ve never seen them.”

“Wow, you are such a bad liar. See, this is why you couldn’t make it out in the real world. You need to seem like you fit in, even when you don’t. You made it too obvious that you were a monster, and that’s what fucked you over. Now I, on the other hand, am very good at hiding myself. I have a nice job, a decent place to live, hell, I even date girls sometimes. Although, I’m more fond of men, but that draws too much attention. You see, the key is to seem as normal as possible, then no one questions you. I just wish you could take my advice and use it, but sadly, this is the last time you’ll be having contact with another human. Well, if you could even call me that. People say to be human you need to have a soul. Well, I don’t have one. In fact, I consider myself to be a monster as well. I’m just a more organized monster.”

I begin making a cut under his cheekbone with my scalpel, collecting a drop of blood and placing it on microscope slide. A trophy I shall place along with the others. He groans, the natural reaction. I watch as the blood spreads thin between the two pieces of glass, then I observe it under the light. The beauty of blood under a bright white light is unreal. Sometimes, it’s enough to set my teeth on edge.

“You don’t have to do this, man. Fuck, man. You’re gonna kill me. Oh my god. Fuck, man. Please.”

“Yeah, isn’t it funny how life comes back and bites you in the ass? But, it’s monsters like you that help control monsters like me. I want to thank you for that.”

I go over to my table of various tools, all part of the art I master in. I go for the power saw. It just feels right. I power it up and stand over Greg with it in my hands, ready for the adrenaline rush to start.

“Oh, by the way, to answer your previous question, my name’s Louis. And I kill people.”

I give him a grin, then I let the saw push into the skin of his neck, cutting through muscle, then bone, then muscle again, until it hits the table underneath Greg. And so it begins.


	2. Code of Troye

Another ordinary day. I wake up, make myself some breakfast, brush my teeth, and get dressed for a day at the station. All a part of the routine I go through. All a part of seeming “normal.”

That’s what my foster father, Troy, always said to me. He would say: “Don’t accept what you are. Hide it as well as you can. No one will ever be understanding. If you want to survive out there while I’m not around, then you make yourself seem as normal as possible.”

And just like that, he wasn’t around anymore. Reality really hit me in the face when Troy died. He passed away a couple of years after my foster mother, Johanna. I didn’t kill them, I promise. 

Troy was a great father. He was the only one who wasn’t completely horrified when they saw me for who I really am: a soul-less monster. The other ones that have seen me and have been completely horrified would be my victims, but you probably figured that out on your own.

Troy was the one who made the code. The killing code I go by. The Code of Troy. One day, I was in the garage replacing the wheels in my skateboard, when Troy stormed in.

“You promised me that you wouldn’t kill when you got these urges. You said you would come and talk to me, and we would work through it together! You’re supposed to tell me when you get those feelings!” 

Troy was mad. So mad, it even scared an emotionless shell like me.

“I do dad. I promise!”

“The hell you do!” He screams as he violently throws a knife on the table I was working on. I know that knife. I held that knife. I killed with that knife. And then, Troy erupted.

“Louis, there’s blood on this knife! You can’t let these things happen! People will see you! People will see right through your mask if you keep making fucking screw-ups like these! What the hell were you thinking, Louis? Never mind that. Where’s the body? Huh? We need to dispose of it properly before some-“.

“Dad, it wasn’t a person!” I sighed through heavy breaths. Troy had gotten me so worked up I was sweating all over, and my heart threatened to beat right out of my chest.

“What?”

“It was an animal, dad. A deer. I took your hunting knife and I slaughtered a deer. Not a person. I should’ve told you about it and I-I’m sorry, ok? Look, next time I won-“.

I was broken off mid-sentence by Troy’s embrace. It caught me by surprise but all I could do was wrap my arms around him as well as he stroked the back of my head assuringly. He sighed heavily onto my shoulder and spoke right next to my ear.

“Oh, Louis. God damnit. You scared the shit out of me. I was worried sick. I mean, what if- what if someone had seen you? What if my department started a case on you? What would I have done? Oh, Jesus.”

He gave me one last pat on the back before pulling away from me. But, I knew we weren’t done here. Some guidelines obviously had to be set.

“Have you ever thought of killing something big, Louis? Something bigger than a deer?”

I gulped down a faint “Yes.”

“Like a person?”

“Yes. I mean, no one in particular. I just think it would feel very… satisfying.”

“Well, that urge you have right now, it will only keep getting stronger as you grow older. It will never go away.”

“So you’re saying that I’ll be a monster forever? I won’t be able to contain myself? I’ll be just as bad as those assholes you and your department are always after?”

“No, Louis. I promise you that won’t happen. I can help you. I can show you how to cover your tracks, how to plan it all out, how to dispose of the… bodies.” He emphasized bodies by raising both of his eyebrows. He was as uncomfortable with this as I was.

“But that won’t change the fact that I’m a cold-blooded killer, will it?”

“Well, you know, Louis. There are people out there who do very bad things. Now, police departments work on keeping the streets safe, but we can never catch all the bad guys. That’s how you can feed the urges. Catching them for us.”

“Yeah but, how is that any different from killing an innocent person.”

“Well, they’ve done things that would be considered punishable by death. Whether that happens under police surveillance through lethal injection or at the hand of your knife, either way they get what’s coming to them.”

“So you’re saying that… they deserve it.”

“Exactly.”

And just like that the Code of Troy was born. And I’ve spent the last 15 years of my life honoring and serving that code. It’s what keeps my madness under control.

***

Walking into Orlando Metro Homicide is always an adventure. Once you step out of the elevator you see potential witnesses being taken in for questioning. A crying mother, a security guard that works the night shift, a random passerby that is extremely pissed off to be spending his Saturday at a police station. Then you see the detectives at work. Working on cases, forming cases, closing cases. You could say that they have a lot of case experience. Then we have the Lieutenant’s office. The Lieutenant here goes by the name of Eleanor Calder. She kinda has the hots for me. But I’ve never understood the whole “mating call” thing that girls do. Finally, the forensics department. All blood and microscope slides. My specialties.

I sit at my desk ready to check the new homicide reports. I need to start working on a new victim. I need at least a week to memorize a victim’s daily patterns before I can go for the kill. Again, all part of the ritual.

I want something exciting this week. I want a bit of a challenge. I know this whole “killing thing” is just supposed to feed the urge, but who says we can’t have a little fun?

I scroll through finding the usual: hit and runs, stabbings, shootings. All extremely boring. Some of them have already been picked up by the department. Looks like I have some blood spatter work to keep me busy later. I scroll down and nothing, nothing, nothing, and then- something.

A possible serial killer. Hmm, one of my own. It says that the victim was a white male in his late 40s. He was tied up to a bed frame, several stab wounds to the neck and chest. But the thing that draws my attention: the fucker carved a smile onto the victim’s face. That’s not just a murder, that’s emotion, that’s passion. It’s fascinating. It says it’s one of 5 possible murders following the same M.O. One on the same day for the past 5 years. April 24th.

His name is Harry Styles.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't updated in a loooong time but it's summer and I'm bored so I'm writing again. I'll post the next chapter soon!


End file.
